


Human, Zabrak and Miraluka Walk Into Jedi Academy

by Filigranka



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: Gen, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:05:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12056697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka
Summary: The Academy, somehow, survives.





	Human, Zabrak and Miraluka Walk Into Jedi Academy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



> Thank for I., for beta!

Rebuilding the Jedi Order proved to be much more difficult than Meetra could have even imagined. Which was saying something, considering she had imagined it to be hard, time-consuming and almost impossible.

She had predicted the political arguments and negotiations, G0-T0 trying to thwart her efforts, conflicts with older Jedi masters coming from hiding and wanting to claim their old positions. She had predicted the clash of personalities among her first students—her disciples. She had predicted so many hardships, she’d started to wonder if she was finally developing the most cursed gift of seeing into the future.

And yet—she hadn’t quite predicted their most serious battles would be over the decor. Which, in hindsight, had been a terribly stupid mistake. During the Mandalorian Wars their problems were all about logistics, equipment and silly interpersonal drama, too.

‘She’s blind,’ said Atton. He didn’t even bother to pretend to lower his voice. ‘Why as she got a vote on the look of the furniture?’

‘Because you, as you were kind to say a few days ago, can’t be arsed to have a preference in this matter?’ Mira raised her eyebrow.

‘Yeah, sure. I said “I don’t mind, as long as I’ll get something comfortable to put my great ass in.” End of quote. And now, a week ago, my still-great ass is still lacking the proper chair or a bed to put itself on—damn, Visas!’ He barely avoided the shoot from his own blaster, put away for his lightsaber training. The next one, he reflected using the lightsaber, and then tried to use The Force to pull the blaster from Visas’ hands.

Visas had much more experience with The Force. But Atton’s sheer determination was enough to snatch the weapon out of her hands for a moment. It hung in the air awkwardly, moving from Atton to Visas and back in what looked like a Force users’ version of wrestling for control.

Bao-Dur smiled. Brianna murmured “childish”, but her voice sounded fond. Mical seemed not to t notice, lost in his thoughts. Meetra felt mostly amused and a little bit relieved. It was a rare sight, a good sight—Visas engaged in such frivolous, playful activities.

Remote Junior peeped in irritation, flew, snatched the blaster from between them and escaped to the relative safety behind Bao-Dur’s back, triumphantly cheeping from there. It was a newly built droid—a young one, as Bao-Dur sometimes said—and its programming was a work in progress, still, which sometimes made it act in a bizarrely childlike manner.

It didn’t escape the notice of others droids, of course. While HK-47 was very ostentatiously irritated by this, seeing it as a mistake in programming that lowered the remote to the level of meatbags, T3-M4 had taken a liking to it. It and HK-47 argued about this quite often, when they thought nobody heard them. And even now T3-M4 moved to the remote’s side and stood there in defensive position, cleaning his multi-function, armored arm. Meetra was sure that if she had asked it, it would act all offended and answer that it was purely a coincidence. Of course.

But it worked; Atton rolled his eyes, smiling, and Visas visibly relaxed, too.

‘If I can see well enough to shoot you—almost shoot you,’ she added, seeing him opening his mouth to answer, ‘I see well enough to choose the furniture.’

Meetra felt a surge of—well, not pride, for pride would be too possessive, like claiming the result of someone’s else actions—contentment. Maybe even joy, pure and simple. It was a big step for Visas to defend her position like that, to fight with such conviction for her right of being the part of decision-process. Or rather: a cumulative effect of many little steps.

Either way, it was a great feeling and probably even Atton felt it—or perhaps he just noticed, sensed Meetra’s mood—for he grumbled something under his breath, shrugged, and instead of continuing the topic, started to play pazaak in his mind.

Which could be a bad sign in itself, a sign of distrust and uncertainty. If not for the fact that Atton was thinking very, very loudly, practically broadcasting his imaginary game to all Force users in the room. And after a second Mira joined him, playing her own game, mirroring his, and countering his moves.

*

‘I have a design idea,’ announced Atton during their evening meal, slurping his soup in an exaggerated manner. They had started to eat in the biggest of the rooms that had been cleared of debris rooms, not on Ebon Hawk’s board, just a few days earlier. ‘I’m a part of our new Jedi Council, too, after all. And I’m not blind.’

‘Jaq,’ hissed Mira; she sounded more bored and irritated by the prospect of another quarrel than offended on Visas’ behalf.

‘We’re not the Jedi Council yet,’ said Mical mildly. He never slurped or bowed his head to the plate and his shoulders seemed nailed to his sides. He never said anything about others’ table manners, either.

He didn’t need to, thought Meetra—but she didn’t feel like touching that subject. He didn’t do anything wrong, after all. And, frankly, he wasn’t the only one acting in a well-bred manner. Bao-Dur also ate in a clear, quick, efficient way, typical of soldiers. Not to mention droids, eating only pure energy—no slurping, no mess, almost no waste of time—and therefore being, like HK-47 liked to remind all of the meatbags, obviously a superior kind of creature.

This was a sentiment Meetra could almost agree with, especially whenI Atton revealed his brilliant idea.

‘We could decorate the walls with erotic pictures. Holopictures, of course, so we could adapt them to the... needs of all our future students. Different species, different genders, different preferences...’ He looked Mical straight in the eye, the very picture of a gambler trying his luck.

Mical, for once, seemed to have lost his tongue, but before Atton could press further, Mira came to the rescue.

‘That’s an interesting idea.’ She waved her fork. ‘I understand we all get to vote for the specifics? I’ll make a list, would hate to forget about something... Naked pazaak would be on top of it, I think. You know, these hologames in which young, reckless, handsome smugglers throw their clothes away as you keep winning...’ She winked.

Atton, to his credit, didn’t look away. He even nodded, smiling cockily. He escaped into pazaak, though. Meetra could sense a glass-like mask falling onto his mind, silencing nearly all the signals Force users could usually detect from living beings.

Before she could intervene, Mical found his tongue.

‘I actually agree,’ he said evenly. ‘I mean, not in every room, obviously, but I think it could be a great exercise in focusing one’s attention, meditation, controlling one’s desires and channelling the coincidental energy into fruitful actions—‘

‘Statement: Meatbags and their obsession with the exchange of bodily fluids is the greatest and most disgusting mystery of the universe.’ HK-47's mechanical voice never changed, but it still sounded very much like whining.

Mical ignored it. ‘—And, of course, it would send a clear message that we’re not the Jedi Order of the past, that we’re about to really make some reforms and changes, and less strict approach to sentiment will be one of them. It is a brilliant idea, Atton.’ He smiled enthusiastically. Meetra was only half-sure his intentions were really so innocuous.

Atton gritted his teeth. ‘I’m starting to see its disadvantages.’

Meetra, on the other hand, was starting to pity her old masters. If this small group of adults was proving such a pedagogic challenge, the whole academy of kids, teenagers, adults and elders must have been a true nightmare.

*

When they finally chose the furniture, Meetra almost threw a party. The only thing stopping her were Atton’s bad feelings—and they, as per usual, proved to be one hundred percent right.

The furniture company answered that, while theywere very much flattered the great Jedi Order was interested in their products, they were unable, unfortunately, to deliver the order. Smugglers, dangerous roads and, last but not least, the damn customs and environmental protection treaties of this particular planet system make it completely impossible to sell them the product of ID: XS-1300-Ottollian-Tree-Wood, in a Sunset-On-Tattoooine shade.

‘Tattoooine? It’s a typo,’ said Atton.

Mira shrugged, but there was a rare bitterness in her voice. ‘They just didn’t care. One exotic, backwater planet or another, who would remember all of them? There are plenty. We won’t change the galaxy, so let’s focus on changing our interior design. Ottollian Wood is out of the question, so—’

‘Visas wanted Ottollian Wood,’ reminded Brianna; she spoke in a formal, almost strict tone and Meetra could feel how much it cost her to be mindful—concerned—of Miraluka. ‘She said it has some specific properties making it easier for her to... stop sensing all the pain of the worlds. Quickening her healing, right?’

Visas immediately started to reassure them all it wasn't necessary, but Bao-Dur just looked at Meetra and said ‘Of course it’s necessary. And I’m sure the General will find a solution. She always does.’

Great. Really great. It wasn’t that Meetra wasn’t accustomed to others looking up to her, awaiting her decisions and coming along with her into the heart of darkness. What she was completely unaccustomed to was being responsible for ordering the furniture and doing other small, civilian administration tasks. And even in the military she’d usually had someone to throw the paperwork at. She had been a Jedi, after all, one of Revan’s colleagues.

The new Jedi training will definitely include the exercises in fighting with bureaucracy, trade treaties and taxes, she swore to herself, trying nervously to come up with some idea, any idea.

‘Don't we know a queen who owes us quite a lot? And she doesn’t seemlike your friend when it comes to debts. ’ Atton pretend to shoot Mira with his fingers arranged in the shape of a blaster. ‘Last time I checked, queens have this odd but useful right to use diplomatic mail services. No checking on borders, no customs. I think it’s a time we collect our debt.’

‘For once, you’re actually making sense,' said Mira. ' Maybe Talia can sponsor us for a small sum, too? Raise a tax or two for the sake of the Jedi Order?’

‘We are supposed to be politically neutral,’ Brianna reminded her.

Bao-Dur said, ‘It’s not wise to go to battle without allies. I was under impression the Jedi Order was supported by the Republic.’

‘The old Jedi Order was.’ There was the slightest hint of rare disdain in Mical’s voice.

Atton brightened. ‘Well, we can always become mercenaries. That would secure our independence. I vote yes. Who is with me?’

Normally, politics and funds were things Meetra vastly preferred to discuss, rather than debates about the decor. Yet the situation now was everything but normal, and she knew the matter of the furniture should be resolved first. Unless what they really wanted was not rebuilding the Jedi Order, but becoming the shadow council of the galaxy.

Which, to be honest, at the moment, this definitely looked tempting.

‘We’re going to ask Her Highness for help. With the delivery.’ She looked at Brianna intently. ‘At least for now. We still have G0-T0’s money.’ T3-M4, with a little help from the intel gained by Bao-Dur’s old remote, had managed to gain access to the Syndicate’s accounts. ‘It’s plenty.’ For now.

*

The full set of furniture came a few weeks after. Assembling and arranging them took them a few days, even with the help of the restless droids and Bao-Dur’s impressive mechanical skills. Or perhaps because of them—his attempts at improving the design slowed the whole process significantly.

And so, when Meetra came to Ebon Hawk’s cockpit, she wasn’t surprised to find Atton there, and not only because she could sense him—all of them—in the Force. He just didn't have any other place to hide. And, although he had helped with assembling the various items of furniture, he escaped at the merest suggestion of taking part in arranging them.

To be honest, even to her Ebon Hawk felt much more like home than this new, freshly repainted temple on Datooine, which had first reeked of blood and smoke, and now smelled like a construction site.

Of course, all of this was partly Atton’s fault. If he hadn't had the idea to use diplomatic mail, they would be still arguing with each other about choosing the proper set...

And then, it struck her. ‘I appreciate what you’ve done for Visas. I think—I might have forgotten to mention it then. Sorry. And thank you.’

Atton looked surprised. ‘I did something for Visas? Are you sure you aren’t mistaking me with—ah, you mean the deal with Queen Talia? I just didn’t want another kerfuffle about furniture, the colours of the walls, and the design of the lamps creating a harmonious composition with the lines of the floor.’

‘Yeah. Sure. Thanks, either way.’ She let the silence stretch between them.

Finally, Atton sighed. ‘You’re welcome. And you know I know that you know I know how you feel about her . How much you care. And I know you know I did it because I owe you. I’ll always owe you, and this is another thing you know.’ He spoke quickly, obviously hoping all these “knows” would distract her. But—ha—she knew how to recognise a grumpy I did it for you. And her, but only a little when she encountered it.

‘I’m glad. I’d hate to have another discussion about matching chairs to tables, too.’ Meetra turned on her heel. ‘Don’t stay on the ship too long this night, all right? It’s our first night in the fully equipped bedrooms, and we all are going to suffer equally.’

‘Damn. I thought my brilliant idea of smuggling some exotic wood would spare me this one. Yeah, don’t look at me like that. I’ll come. Later.’

‘Before breakfast.’

‘Before the dawn, even. But I want us to build a gambling den in return. We could use it to train the future students in self-control, clearing their heads and... and... and other Jedi stuff. You’re better at this than I am.’

Meetra raised her eyebrow at him. ‘You talked with Mical?’

‘I might. You see, we’re getting on oh so well! The best friends ever!’ He sighed theatrically. ‘Now, can I get my gambling den?’

‘Sure.’ The sight of Atton’s shocked face was definitely worth it. ‘I mean, this whole Academy is setting up to be a beautiful catastrophe. Having us as teachers will probably be the worst thing to happen to the future generation of Jedi. Let’s at least have some fun with it!’

When she was leaving, she heard him muttering “I’ve got a bad feeling about this” under his breath—but in his pazaak mind game she could see a beautiful winning hand.


End file.
